Sentinel
by 1uvakindmom
Summary: SAINW AU Fic. He had been away for so long, on the fringes of society, a lonely sentinel who sacrificed all.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing…except this computer on which I type.**

**A/N: This one-shot is in response to the Stealthy Stories challenge "Last One". So, this idea came to me when I was thinking about it. Takes place in the SAINW AU. **

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"_The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…and the one"—Spock_

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_Was all this really worth it?_

The soil beneath him was dusty and dry, the mound under his toes digging uncomfortably into his bare, calloused feet. Silence surrounded him, eerily so, coating him in layers of guilt and doubt and shame. Nothing moved, nothing breathed, save for the shallow breaths he took in time with his fragile heart. The spindly, skeletal trees reached out to him, imploring him to leave this place, to finally free himself of what had been holding him back for so long.

He had forgotten what it even felt like to speak, not completely sure if the voice in his head was reminiscent of his own. All he knew were barren roads and endless expanses of loneliness. It followed him everywhere, forever at his back and whispering empty promises of nothingness into his ears. The pain that came with it was like nothing any force on Earth could inflict, a chronic ache nestled in his soul, gnawing at everything he was and used to be. Yet day after day, year after year, he kept moving, one foot plodding in front of the other, until he found himself back here. Long ago he had resolved never to return here, but somehow he was back anyways, facing them, after such a passage of time.

_What have I done?_

His tattered cloak rustled anxiously around his ankles in the slight breeze as the sun began to fall below the horizon, casting into the sky brilliant, fiery hues of pink and orange which painted his own soul with their blazing rays. Casting his gaze upwards, his sight followed up to the top of a statue before him, the single intact structure amongst scattered rubble. It seemed something so simple, yet poignant was out of place here, but it somehow seemed fitting to be outside of the re-burgeoning city that lay down the road.

_As they were in life…unseen heroes…_

Four sets of weapons, carefully carved from stone set upon a larger block. This single testament was all there was of what his brothers had done for the world…

_I should have been there with you…_

He drove the end of his worn staff into the dirt, turning it in rough semi-circles a few times in an attempt to give it purchase, but the thin top soil held nothing, releasing the wood the moment his hand left it and thudding helplessly onto the monument. The wraps around its center, which had long ago faded from vibrant purple to a dull lilac, dangled limply in spots; hopeless.

He dropped to his knees, the aged pads on them offering little protection against the impact. A jolt of pain shot through him, but the only outward sign was a slight grimace on his weary face and a muted grunt. He raised a trembling, hesitant hand and wiped away the years of grime which had accumulated on the plaque at the base of the statue. He traced each letter reverently, with slow, methodical purpose, mouthing the words silently as if reciting a sacred prayer. Leonardo…Raphael…Michelangelo…his brothers. They had died as heroes, but with more questions than he would ever be able to answer.

_I'm so sorry I never came back; I couldn't. For you; for everyone…for everything…_

His hands fell to the ground, digging into the dirt as he curled his fingers inward into fists. Six trails appeared in the soil in their wake, dragging pebbles and sediment into his palm and stinging the flesh within harshly. The black cloak he wore puddled around his hunched form, blending into the darkening landscape like a cascading waterfall of midnight as the sky faded from purple to velvety ebony with the final decent of the sun. The diamond stars made their entrance overhead, stark and harsh; judging, but never able to understand.

_No one will ever know…why…save for me…_

He remembered the night well, it played in his mind endlessly like a broken record, forever replaying a disjointed, jumpy tune. It was a safe memory to dwell on, a happier time which had served to help him keep his sanity over the decades, anchoring him like a boat in stormy seas to the promise he made and the reasoning behind it. He often felt regret, it tugged at him on all sides as an incessant child at his mother's apron, but when if he recalled _why_ it would put the feeling at bay for a bit of peace. It always came back, nagging and persistent; he would attempt to quell its calls with thoughts of his family.

…_and for her…_

Renet.

The Timestress.

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It had been a wonderful night. April and Casey had just announced they were engaged and they all had spent the night celebrating. Mikey had won indeterminable rounds of Trivial Pursuit, they watched one too many corny Western flicks, and ate so much pizza they all felt like they were going to burst. They would have kept going, too, if it weren't for an over-protective father rapping his sons on their heads with his walking stick and rambling on about how "teenagers need their sleep and to not question his order because he had seen this on a documentary". Four reluctant, grumbling teenage mutant turtles bid their farewells to their human friends and headed to their rooms. Little did the one who was named Donatello know that this was the last time he would ever see his family again.

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_Had I known then…I would have held on to every moment, never taking any of it for granted…_

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He had been jolted awake in the middle of the night. His room was dark, oppressively so, covering him in a thick blanket of unease. He was not even sure of _what_ had awoken him, but he felt as if _someone_ were in his room. His eyes darted from side to side, trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything in the blackness surrounding him, his pupils wide and hungry for light. He gripped his blanket as he did when he was young, a subconscious response to intangible nightmares.

"Donnie?" a soft, feminine voice called out from the dark. "Are you, like, awake?"

It took a few moments for his mind to clear enough for the voice to click in his memory.

"Renet?" he responded, his own voice full of confusion.

"Ohmigod…so glad I got the right room!" she sighed in relief.

She flicked on the switch for the lights. Never having a chance to prepare, the sudden illumination stung Donatello's eyes. He shut them instinctively in response, feeling them water from the unexpected shift in light.

"Oops…sorry 'bout that…" Renet apologized feebly.

"What…are you doing here?" Don asked, cracking his eyes open to test their reaction to the brightness of his room.

"I know it's totally uncool of me to drop in here in the middle of the night and wake you up, but I have no choice," Renet explained, her voice laced with a subtle sadness Don could barely detect.

"Is…something wrong?" he asked hesitantly, almost not wanting to know her answer. He propped himself up against the headboard of his bed, the wood cool against the back of his head.

"You…could say that…" Renet returned cryptically.

"Do you need our help with something? I can go get the guys…" Don began, pushing the cover off himself and making to get out of his bed.

"NO!" Renet blurted. "I mean…no…" her voice was wavering in a nervous vibrato. "Just…you…"

"Me?" Donatello questioned. "What can I do alone that my brothers and I cannot accomplish together?"

The Timestress pointed a finger at him and her normally bubbly, youthful voice took a grave turn which sent a shiver up the genius' spine. "Only you can save everything as we know it."

She went on to explain in rushed tones the implications of Ultimate Draco being in possession of the Timesceptre; of the possible dangers of him having control of all time. The device had a mind of its own to a degree, but it sometimes needed to be nudged in the right direction.

Donatello's brow furrowed as he attempted to process her explanation. "I don't understand…"

"You have to leave," she responded simply, as if that should have been enough of an explanation for him.

"What?!" Donatello shot back at her incredulously. He could feel his hands beginning to tremble, becoming clammy from emotional turmoil.

"You leaving will set off a chain of events that HAVE to happen," Renet added. "Lord Simultaneous has seen it. Shredder will take over here and…"

"Shredder?! You expect me to leave and just stand by and let Shredder take over?" he cut her off indignantly.

Donatello prided himself on his calm, how he was usually able to keep his cool and his head clear…but this was just beyond anything his logic could process. He vaguely wondered in the back of his mind if this was a nightmare…_wished_ it was but a bad dream from which he would soon awaken. His whole body was shaking now like a leaf in the breeze, confusion and anger fueling the fire.

"I know this is totally hard to understand, I don't even fully understand it myself. Lord Simultaneous went on about alternate realities and how they all tie into time/space and it, like, made my head spin. Lord Simultaneous tried to explain it like ripples in a pond…what happens in one reality has the potential to carry on into others. You leaving here will set off the events for the Donatello from another reality to be sent here at some point which will in turn lead to Ultimate Draco's defeat. See where this is headed?"

"I…" Donatello started, but the words wouldn't come. His mind was whirling faster than the thoughts could be carried to his mouth, like an overloaded assembly line, some were bound to fall off from the excess. "What are the chances you are wrong?" he managed to croak out. "Maybe I can do something… there _has_ to be another way…"

"No chance, Don, I'm so sorry," she said gently, her eyes holding the voiceless pleas of billions, for him to believe her.

The outcome of what Donatello had to do wrapped sinister fingers around his throat, the realization stealing all air from his lungs like the airless vacuum of space. He stood, his legs feeling heavy under the emotional weight. "Then let's go."

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_I don't remember if I looked back. I'm sure I did. But I never said goodbye. Was there any other choice? Could I have done something else? _

Donatello heard the soft sound of tears hitting the dirt below him. He opened his tightly closed eyes to the blur of tears he did not even realize he had been shedding. He shifted upright, his knees drawn under his body as he regarded the statue before him once again. It was strangely dark in the cover of night, a silent sentinel on the fringes of society.

He didn't want to dwell on those long years alone…but that and knowing his brothers had succeeded felt like all he had. One of the longest enduring questions of since the dawning of sentient thought was to wonder at the meaning of life. Had his fulfilled any purpose at all…or was he errant dust tossed about by the wind? Whatever the conclusion, the fact that everything was still here should have been enough of an answer for him; everything still _existed_…

He shifted again, his aged legs numbed from the angle they were held at. He didn't have much time left; that much he knew. Age was catching up with him, and had been for a while. Maybe he would rest here for a bit…the closest to his brothers he had been in over fifty years. He turned around and sat upon the ground, leaning his shell upon the stone base. At least now he would get to say what he never was able to so long ago.

He opened his mouth to speak, his voice scratchy from disuse, but surprisingly clear.

"Goodbye…"


End file.
